


Monstrous

by bi0matrix



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Vampires, like expect this to be real slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23640451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bi0matrix/pseuds/bi0matrix
Summary: Vampires have risen and it is up to the Dawnguard to stop them. The sun is setting, perhaps for the last time. Dragons have returned. The world as they know it is coming to an end.The solution, a vampire, fresh out of a century long nap, and an awkward vampire hunter, who constantly fights with a voice in her head. By the Nine this is going to be tough.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Serana
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	1. Leveled

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, again. I am entertaining another plot bunny in my head. Not sure if I'll continue, but let's see what happens.

After everything she did for Isan, recruiting both Gunmer AND Sorine into the Dawnguard ranks, you would think he would invite Vavaal to rest at Fort Dawnguard for a night or two. Maybe say a little thank you. 

But no, instead he sends her yet on another mission, this time to assist a Vigilant Tolan on uncovering some hidden “treasure” Volikar vampires are trying to dig up from Dimhollow Crypt. And said Vigilant refused to wait for Vavaal and plowed on ahead to the crypt himself, saying he needed to meet with Vigilant Adalvald and they would then “gather their forces there.”

_Bullshit._

Now Vavaal is in a rush to gather her things before Isran has a fit and throws her to the vampires as cattle. 

The tall nord is standing beside her cot in the fort’s sleeping quarters in the early morning. She adjusts the silver pauldron on her left shoulder, ensuring it is secure. A gold emblem of a flaming sun glints in the light of the hearth beside her cot. The grey plates on her dawnguard uniform are dull in the fire’s light. “He couldn’t have waited for me,” she mutters to no one as she ties her blond locks into a tight bun before securing a leather and metal mask to her face. Two straps clip behind her head, one positioned above and one positioned below her well placed bun. The grey metal glints as she adjusts it, leather trim lining the mask and providing soft cushion for the skin underneath. Two small meshed holes are punched out the sides of the mask, allowing for ample breathing and for her soft spoken voice to reach her comrades' ears without much fuss. 

“Nooo, he had to charge on ahead of me,” she pulls a simple brown hood over her head, securing it to the mask with two small buttons. “‘I’ll meet you there to gather our forces,’” she tries to mock Tolan’s gruff voice. “What a boy,” her final piece, her trustworthy Bloodskal blade secured to her back in its sheath. 

As she walks out of the sleeping quarters she catches the eyes of Agmear, a new recruit like her. He is shooting a crossbow, that seems too large in his hands, at a stack of wooden boxes in the main atrium of the fort. He lowers the weapon, offering a friendly smile and wave. “Goodluck, Vavaal. Kill some vampires for me.” Vavaal’s golden eyes crinkle at the edges, the only hint she’s smiling under the mask. 

“When I come back, I can help you with your crossbow work,” she promises.

~~~~

With the help of a swift carriage and some convincing to have the poor driver drop the nord off on the side of the road, Vavaal makes it to Dimhollow Crypt at dusk. “Eh, that carriage was a terrible bed for taking a nap,” she says to herself. As she nears the entrance to the crypt, a shiver runs down her spine, sending her red flags. Tolan is nowhere to be found. _Maybe he’s inside?_ Nagging doubt ebbs at the edge of her mind but she shoos it away. There are no signs of a struggle in the dirt, it is eerily pristine as if no one has stepped foot inside the cave entrance, nor are there bodies indicating a fight between Tolan and any vampires. 

Vavaal creeps silently into the cave, trying her best to mimic the movements of a thief. The motion is difficult with Bloodskal on her back, but she manages to move slowly in silence. 

“Those vigilants never learn their lesson. I thought we taught them enough at their hall,” a voice ahead of Vavaal picks up above the sounds of rushing water. 

“To come here alone, how foolish. Just like the one from before,” another spits. The nord rounds the snowy rocks, catching a glimpse of two vampires conversing in the light of a fallen torch. 

“You must admit, this one was more of a challenge than the first,” the first vampire admitted. “He killed two of our own while the other whimpered like a child.”

“Jeron and Bresoth deserved it, their arrogance was their weakness,” the second snorts. “I just hope another comes by soon, I’m feeling a little hungry.” His companion agrees and they fall in silence. 

_Does that mean they’re both dead?_ Vavaal curses in her head. _I’m outnumbered._ Instead of turning tail and running like any other sane adventurer, the nord gathers a hefty rock near her foot and drops it down the ledge below her. The two vampires catch the unusual noise. 

“What is that?” one of them hisses and stalks toward the source of the noise, his black robes billowing in the chilly air. Vavaal carefully draws Bloodskal, praying to the Nine that the stone pillars shield her from view. 

The vampire creeps below Vavaal perch. “I can smell you,” he says faintly. He doesn’t see any mortal hiding behind the falling water. He looks up to the snowy ledge, only for his vision to be blocked by the nord’s form as she drops down. She drives Bloodskal down, spearing through the vampire’s skull, cutting off his scream. 

Near the torchlight, a black skeletal hound leaps into action, the other vampire hot on its tail. Vavaal swiftly tears the red greatsword from the corpse swings across her body, cutting the hound down mid leap. 

“You’ll pay for that!” the vampire hisses. His pale hand glows a blood-red as he casts his deadly vampiric drain on the intruder. Vavaal feels sluggish as her lifeforce quite literally leaves her body. She just barely manages to turn to catch the vampire’s dagger on her pauldron. She uses her right hand to deliver a swift punch to his gut, knocking him off and cutting off his concentration on the spell. 

“I hate that spell,” Vavaal says calmly. The vampire looks up at her, shocked at the leveled reply. _Her voice, there is no fear, no excitement from battle._

“Who.. are you?” The vampire grips his dagger tighter. The draining spell once again charging in his free hand. He watches the tall nord gather her red greatsword in both hands, effortlessly. The dagger in his hand no longer feels real in comparison to the terrifying blade in front of him. Fear crawls up his spine, snatching his shoulders. 

Vavaal cocks her head slightly, her golden eyes crinkling slightly at the vampire. “Oh no one really.” Without warning she mutters a word under her breath and lurches at a speed even faster than a vampire, the long blade piercing cleanly through his abdomen.

He coughs blood onto the blade, shakey from the impact. The vampire looks up at his attacker, meeting golden eyes staring levely back at him. He swears for a second he sees a tint of blue edging the golden irises, but his thoughts are cut short as she yanks the blade out, his blood spilling across the rocks. 

He’s dead before he hits the ground. 

“I shouldn’t do that so willy-nilly,” Vavaal chides herself as she wipes Bloodskal on the dead vampire’s robes before approaching the torchlight. Her golden eyes peer sadly down at the corpse lying next to it. 

_Vigilant Tolan._

“ _Krosis,”_ it slips past Vavaal’s lips. She blinks, for a moment, cursing at herself for letting such a word slip before turning back to Tolan. 

“I won’t let your death be in vain,” she’s unsure of her promise, but makes it anyway. It’s better to make promises to the dead than to the living anyway. The living...

_Avalvald!_ He must be farther inside the cave. Hopefully still alive, searching for this treasure the vampires are so badly trying to unearth. 

Vavaal pushes further into the cave, cutting down draugr and trapezing through their watery graves. Her motions are fluid, calm, and calculated. There is no fury nor excitement in each strike like in other warriors across Skyrim. All passion for a fight, drowned in her eyes long ago. 

“Disgusting spider,” she wrestles her blade out from one of the many eye sockets of a frostbite spider. Out of all of the creatures of skyrim, a frostbite spider had to guard this small wooden door. She loathes spiders. She sheathes Bloodskal once more and gingerly opens the door, half expecting the undead to lunge at her. But there is nothing but an empty room with a small pedestal in the middle and a balcony leading to an open cavern on the far end. The nord checks the pedestal for traps before taking the scroll.

“I will tell you nothing!” a voice spits in the cavern below. Vavaal pockets the scroll in the small enchanted pouch on her belt. 

“Fool, do you wish to meet the same fate as your other vigilant friend?” a graty, gravel-like voice replies. _Vampire. Must be._ Vavaal creeps over to the balcony to peer at the scene. 

“I think he does,” a far more smooth voice responds, a second vampire. Vavaal just reaches the banister of the stone balcony as she sees the smooth-voiced vampire rip Adalvald’s throat out with his teeth. Her gut lurches at the gruesome sight and the vigilant’s guttural screech. The vigilant tries his best to struggle against the ropes tying his hands behind his back, trying to push away from the vampire draining his lifeforce. 

“Go and meet your beloved Stendarr,” the vampire whispers into Adalvald’s ear, mouth dripping in blood. 

“I think you just wanted to keep that mortal as a snack, Lokil” the other vampire hissed. “He knew nothing of how to open the seal.”

“His usefulness was at an end,” Lokil takes out a whitecloth from his dark robes. He wipes the blood away from his face, careful to scrub any out of his short, white beard. “Besides, Elgad, I was feeling peckish.” He begins to walk across a bridge to a stone island in the middle of the cavern. Tall stone archways adorn the rim of the island that houses nothing but a small pedestal in the center and a few unlit braziers. 

“You couldn’t have saved any for me?” Elgad complains.

“You have your thrall,” Lokil snorts. Elgad follows Lokil across the bridge. A sluggish form pushes off of the wall it was resting on and follows the vampires. Upon closer inspection, the thrall is an unfortunate Redguard with dead eyes. 

_Oh shit._ Vavaal sees everything from her perch. She can’t help but let guilt seep into her form at seeing Adalvald dead on the ground. _Whatever the vampires are trying to get here, it must be important._ She descends down the stairs to the platform with Adalvald’s corpse. She does her best to ignore his form, silently wishing the mask filtered out the scent of his blood. Ahead of her, the vampires and thrall are inspecting the center pedestal. 

“Did the mortal say anything about undoing the seal?” Elgad asks Lokil. Lokil inspects one of the braziers, its unlit bowl is filled with purple void salts. 

“No,” he responds grimly. “He was quite keen on keeping his mouth shut until I ripped his throat out. Just keep looking.” The vampires notice the braziers slide along a track and try pushing each brazier in various formations, testing for any reaction. The thrall stands in the center with the pedestal, staring blankly at the blood-stained...button.

Button?

The redguard cannot help but press his hand on the button. A sharp spike launches up from the pedestal, spearing his hand. He yelps and collapses on one knee as his blood spills down the button. Lokil and Elgad turn at the scent of blood, seeing the redguard yank his arm to his chest as the spike retract. 

Elgad seems ready to pounce on his thrall when violet light erupts from the center pedestal and fan out on the thin tracks. 

“Clever Valerica,” Lokil grins. “We needed mortal blood for the seal, I’m half guessing she expected us to never bring a mortal alive here.” He pushes one of the braziers and erupts in satisfaction when the brazier shakes to life with violet flames. “Push all the braziers until they look like this.” 

Elgad barks the order at his thrall kneeling on the ground. Against his own will, the thrall pushes to his feet and uses his good hand to push the remaining braziers into place. 

The island begins to shake as the last brazier is slid into place. Vavaal reaches for her sword’s hilt, but pauses when a stone monolith rises from the center of the island. One of the panels on the monolith slides away to reveal the treasure inside.

_A woman._

The mysterious woman is dressed in what looks like ancient clothes, arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes are closed, as if sleeping. The panel that slides away from the rest of the monolith must’ve been supporting the woman as she falls forward. Elgad, with his vampiric speed swiftly catches her before she hits the ground. 

She stirs against Elgad’s chest, awakening from her centuries-long sleep. Her eyes feel glued shut, but she forces them open with effort. 

“Lady Serana,” Lokil greets pleasantly. “It has been so long.”

_What… how is there a woman inside of there? How did she survive?_ Vavaal is shell-shocked as the woman becomes more awake. 

“You are not my mother,” the woman responds after a moment, as if testing her smooth voice. Vavaal swears she feels her knees shake a little at hearing her honeyed voice and _not_ from crouching for so long. 

“Your mother is a traitor,” Lokil sneers. “She locked you away, your father sent us to bring you home.” He grabs, not too gently, at her arm to pull her away from Elgad’s chest. The two vampires steady the woman, holding her arms in crushing grips. 

“I see,” molten copper eyes lazily filter around the room. She takes in the cavern, its wide girth. Her gaze turns to the platform Vavaal and Adalvald’s corpse rest on. Perhaps it’s the scent of blood that calls her gaze in that direction. But instead of looking at the corpse, Vavaal feels those bright eyes staring straight at her. She prays again to the gods that the woman doesn’t see her. _Those eyes, is she a vampire? It’s like she’s staring right through me_. Vavaal cannot help but stare back at the woman. She feels a twinge in the back of her head, a nagging feeling. Her hand twitches to her blade again, as if it has a mind of its own. 

The mysterious woman’s thoughts are drowned out as she tries to enthrall the mortal crouching at the base of the bridge. _A scout for Lokil, perhaps. Interesting, he’s never been fond of thralls._ She casts her mind out to the blond nord, worming her way into her head. It is more difficult than she remembers, or maybe this mortal just has a stronger will than others. With some effort she is able to command her to raise her hand to the hilt of the greatsword on her back without the other vampires noticing. Pushing her vampiric powers even further, she tries to get the nord to stand, but a sharp jolt breaks her concentration. A snapping within the mortal’s mind shoves Serana out. Vavaal’s honey eyes blink several times, feeling control over her own body once more. 

“How interesting, Lokil,” the mysterious woman slowly grins. She shifts her feet, taking in her full weight and standing tall. “It is unlike you to keep a thrall around.”

Perplexed, Lokil diverts his attention in the direction of Serana’s gaze. “Thrall? What on Nirn are you talking about?” Lokil’s gaze catches Vavaal, who’s eyes widen a fraction in surprise. Serana takes the momentary distraction as her cue. With calculated precision, she summons a sharp, icy spike around the hand Elgad is holding in place. Her strength overpowers his out of sheer adrenaline as she whips her handmade spear into the side of Lokil’s throat. 

_Time to fight._ Vavaal draws her blade and charges across the bridge. Elgad is momentarily distracted by Serana’s sudden act of violence, enabling the vampiress to shove him off. He stumbles backward, failing to keep hold of her. The haggard Redguard grunts, springing into action, drawing his blade and swinging at Serana’s back. With Lokil down, she looks behind at her attacker ready to counter. 

But the blow never lands.

Instead the Redguard is knocked to the ground by a bright red beam. Serana feels the intense heat emanating from the energy blast as it passes her, burning the Redguard in its path. She turns to the source and finds the nordic woman from before locked in battle with Elgad. 

“I’m going to kill you mortal!” Elgad screeches. 

“I’d like to see you try,” she responds. Not as a taunt, but almost in curiosity. Serana doesn’t have time to think more of the woman’s passive response as she sees Elgad swiftly charge at the nord with a short blade. The woman parries, just barely. Elgad’s vampiric speed proved to be faster than the previous undead Vavaal previously encountered. 

“You’re finished,” he hisses as he strikes again. Vavaal parries once more, but Elgad swiftly counters and manages to slice across her thigh. He steps back as she hisses and collapses on one knee. 

“You’ll make a good snack,” Elgad hones in on the mortal, intent on the tempting blood spilling from her leg. 

“Did you forget about me?” he hears a smooth voice behind him before hands wrapping around his neck. 

“Lad- Lady Serana!” He chokes out. Serana effortly lifts him off the ground by his neck, squeezing until his head quite literally _explodes._

Vavaal watches this spectacle in amazement. Some vampire blood splatters on the front of her armor, but she ignores it. The Redguard thrall’s screams have died moments before, leaving just the vampiress and the vampire hunter alone. 

Serana let’s Elgad’s body crumple to the ground before her in a bloody heap, staring levelly at the kneeling mortal before her. She takes in the armor, the way it’s bulkiness fails to hide the strong body beneath it. A strange mask adorns the mortal’s face, blocking any facial expression beyond what those golden eyes are willing to show. The blood seeping from her leg almost beg her to suck the mortal dry. _Calm now, not yet. You need to get out of here._

“You aren’t enthralled are you,” Serana begins. 

Vavaal shakes her head. She gazes levelly back at the vampiress, taking in the way the vampire armor clings to her, highlighting the curves of her hips. A short cloak graces her shoulders, held together by a snarling broach of a demon’s face. 

“I see, by the smell of it, you’re a vampire hunter. Come to kill me then?” 

“No, not at all,” Vavaal replies neutrally. “I am a vampire hunter, but I was sent to see what was in this crypt, not to kill you.” 

_Her scent, there is more than just a vampire hunter in her. What is it,_ Serana thinks. 

“What is your name?” Serana asks. 

“Why do you want to know?” there’s barely a chill to her neutral tone. Serana crosses her arms in return.

“Well, if you’re going to be like that, I can just call you ‘snack,’” Serana replies impatiently. 

“Aha, I didn't mean it like that,” golden eyes crinkle as a sign of a smile which is not returned. “My name is Vavaal.” She uses her blade as support as she rises to her feet, gingerly applying weight to her injured leg. 

“Do you have any idea of how to get out of here, Vavaal?” She tests the unusual name on her tongue. Vavaal shivers slightly at the sound of her own name leaving Serana’s lips. The vampiress noticies the mortal’s heartbeat skip, willing herself to suppress a smirk. 

“I do not,” Vavaal shakes her head. “But if this is like any other cave I’ve been in, there might be an exit at the back. She reaches into her pack and retrieves a red vial. She pulls the cork off before pouring it onto the wound, letting the stinging liquid seep into the cut. “Leaving so soon?” she grits out through the pain. 

“I need to go home, I figure it’s long overdue. Can you help me get there? I’ve been asleep longer than I would’ve liked.”

“Oh, mmm,” Vavaal thinks for a moment. _Isan would probably want me to kill her._ “I don’t know, considering there is an Elder Scroll on your back, I really shouldn’t.” How perceptive. Serana’s arms tighten across her chest. 

“Please, I can pay you,” there is no hint of begging in Serana’s voice. She steps closer to Vavaal, noticing that the mortal is a few inches taller than her. “I could really use your help.”

Her voice is almost sultry. 

“W-well, I suppose,” Serana smirks as she hears Vavaal’s heart skip a beat. The vampire hunter is attracted to the vampire, how ironic. _This’ll be interesting._

“Perfect. Lead the way, if your leg can handle it.” Vavaal brushes past Serana, taking in the large scroll strapped to her back, but saying nothing. She mutters about falling for a pretty face so quickly. The two cross the bridge on the other side of the island and into the rocky pathway leading to a pathway through the rocks. 

Serana takes in the mortal’s scent as they walk. There is something exotic in her blood, almost like mulled wine. Even from several paces back, it is mouthwatering. Serana is confident that she could overtake this woman if she wanted to. It would be so quick too. 

_But she saved you from that thrall._ A her conscious interjects. _Let her live for now, gods know how much longer she has left before meeting Harkon._

~~~~

The pair eventually find the exit to the cave, after a handful of battles with some gargoyles (much to Vavaal’s surprise) and draugr (much to Vavaal’s dismay). 

“It feels so good to feel fresh air,” Serana breathes the crisp air in deeply. Revelling in the scent of pine needles and fresh snow. 

“I understand the feeling,” Vavaal says absentmindedly as she unfurls a map from a square, leather case on her belt. “Where is your home?”

“It’s on an island, northwest of Solitude. There should be a small dock on the mainland that can get us there, if I remember correctly,” Serana steps closer and peers down at the map. It looks so different than before. _A lot has changed._

“Alright, well I need to restock on some potions, so we’ll have to stop by Solitude along the way,” Vavaal closes the map and tucks it back.

They fall in comfortable silence as they walk through the snow. Serana pulls her hood over her eyes to shield herself from the sparse sunlight filtering through the clouds. The healing potion Vavaal drank inside the cave has taken full effect, clotting the blood in the cut and beginning the healing process. Serana takes in her companion again, copper eyes taking in the mask around her face. 

“Who is the high king?” she asks, finally satisfying one of her burning questions. 

“That is up for debate,” her companion says after a while. “Some may argue that it is Ulfric Stormcloak, others will say the Empire has claim to the throne.”

'The Empire?” How long was she out? How much did she miss?

“Em, yeah, the Empire from Cyrodiil,” Vavaal turns to Serana, one brow slightly raised. The metal mask in full view, glints dimly in the faded sunlight. 

“I see. Why do you wear that mask? Is it customary nowadays?” She inquires.

“Mm, so many questions,” golden eyes lift at the edges again. “I thought you were going to be the silent, stoic type after seeing you in that cave.”

“Some say I am, but after being asleep for centuries, you tend to be a bit chatty.” 

Serana waits for a response from the other woman.

“Some people think I am quite monstrous, so I’m muzzled.”

Vavaal’s voice is so soft Serana barely catches it. 

“What do you --”

Serana begins, but is cut off by a guttural roar overhead. 

Through the thin canopy, she spies a large figure flying straight toward them. 

"Shit,” Vavaal curses. 

Serana’s eyes widen in shock as the creature above them erupts in another roar, shaking the ground as it dives toward them. 

_Dragon._


	2. Possessed

“Since when are dragons still alive!” Serana screams over the dragon’s roar.

Vavaal draws her blade and readies it at her side. 

“It’s complicated. But we need to take cover,” Vavaal gestures to an outcrop of rocks just ahead of them. They sprint to the rocks and shove their backs against it. Serana’s hands spark with a lightning spell, the magic crackling with power.

 _“Bo ahrk grah zu’u, Dovahkiin!”_ The dragon hovers over them. Dark, obsidian spikes protrude from his back and face. His pale wings beat strongly, generating a cold gust at the two nords. “Let me taste the Voice everyone fears!”

 _Shit, this is bad_ . Vavaal looks up at the dragon. _I’m wounded, and if I lose control then we’re all dead._

The frost dragon opens its maw and shoots its icy breath.

_“Fo Krah Diin!”_

Serana’s eyes widen and she slams herself into Vavaal, knocking her out of the way. She takes the brunt of the frost breath, mostly unaffected by the chill. She shivers under its effect, even though the cold barely affects the undead, the frosty breath of a dragon is still felt. 

“Why is it attacking us?” Serana pushes herself off of Vavaal and hoists her to her feet. The dragon circles again, this time diving close to the ground. For the first time, Serana sees a hint of emotion come through those golden eyes. 

Fear.

“He wants me. Cover me,” she steps out of the protection of the rock outcrop. She readies her sword beside her as the dragon comes barreling down close to the ground. 

A deep voice snakes out of the depths of Vavaal’s thoughts. 

**_Give in to me, Bron._ **

_Not now._

“Serana!” Vavaal yells for her companion as the dragon approaches. The vampire gathers a spark of lightning in her grasp before shooting it toward the dragon. It lands square on the side of his face, blinding him for a moment. Vavaal takes this as her chance to side step and run her sword down his side as he just flies past her. She just barely manages to duck under his wing as he roars in pain. 

**_Doesn’t this excite you, Bron? Don’t you relish in the heat of battle? Let me show you how to kill him. Give him a taste of your Voice._ **

“Shut up,” Vavaal hisses aloud. Serana catches her outburst. Peculiarly, no one else but the two of them are on the ground, and the dragon has flown up in the air again. 

And it’s flying toward them again. 

“We need to run,” Serana shoves at Vavaal and they make a dash for a thicker section of trees. 

“I will freeze the whole forest to get to you, _Dovahkiin_!”

 _Dovahkiin_. 

Where has Serana heard of this?

The dragon releases another breath of frost through the canopy above them, the trees cracking under the intense force. 

Vavaal’s heart races. _Don’t lose control, don’t lose control. Conceal it._

**_If you don’t use your Voice, your beautiful companion will die._ **

The deep voice makes sense. Vavaal casts a look at Serana, who faces the sky with lightning flashing in her palms. Why does she have to urge to help her so much?

_Fine. But I will not lose control this time, Dovah._

**_We shall see, Bron._ **

“Serana, you need to stay here. I know how to kill the dragon,” Vavall grabs Serana’s upper arm. Her grip and voice are soft. Serana faces her companion and sees a still calm in her eyes. 

Serana shakes her head.

“What? I’m not leaving you to face this lizard alone. I’m coming with you.”

“No, please just trust me,” there is something frightening about Vavaal's tone that makes Serana believe her. 

“If I see you struggling at all, I’m coming after you.” Vavaal releases her grip on Serana and unclips the mask from her hood. Serana takes in her blond hair, messy from travel, and how the mask’s straps wound all the way around her head. 

Vavaal sheaths her blade as she turns away from Serana, reaching up to unclasp the mask from her face. It falls with a thud at her feet and she takes off in a sprint toward the dragon circling in the distance. 

Cold air meets her face for what feels like the first time. She unsheaths Bloodskal once more, its weight feeling solid in her grip. The dragon sees Vavaal burst from the trees and stand her ground.

 _“Ful hi bo do qah, Dovahkiin.”_ The dragon flies to the ground in front of Vavaal, landing loudly and shaking the earth below him. “Taste my Voice!”

Vavaal stands her ground, only stumbling slightly from the rumbling earth.

 _Don’t lose control,_ Vavaal pleads to herself.

The deep voice, rumbles in return.

**_Lose yourself in the heat of battle. I will fight for you!_ **

_“Fo Krah Diin!”_

Vavaal sees his frost breath erupt from his mouth and sucks in a deep breath.

_“Fus Ro Dah!”_

The dragon is forced to brace himself as his own thu’um is pushed against him. Even from farther away, Serana has to cover her ears. She recalls the stories now, stories about a nordic warrior fighting with the voice and soul of a dragon. _She’s the Dragonborn._

Vavaal charges at the dragon, aiming her blade for his exposed throat. He sees her and rears up legs, wings fanning out and blocking the rising sun. _No!_ Vavaal begins to panic as her swing meets nothing but air. She is exposed now, the dragon rearing over her, his gaping maw about to crash down over her and bite her in half. 

A burning sensation sparks from within her throat and spreads over her body like a brush fire. **_That almost worked, Bron. But now it is time to fight as a Dovahkiin._ **

“Shut up!” Vavaal screams at the voice in her head. It is futile this time as the burning sensation snakes it’s way up into her head and behind her eyes. Vavaal’s vision waivers as the burning overtakes her, the dragon’s form becoming hazy as his maw comes down to strike. 

**_“_ ** **My turn** **_,”_ ** Vavaal’s soft tone is drowned out by Dovah’s low, gruff rumble.

What Serana sees next is truly a feat. 

**_“Fus Ro Dah!”_ ** Vavaal’s thu’um shakes the ground once more as she shouts at the dragon attacking her. The shout is enough to throw the dragon’s strike off course, his head coming down just beside her. The nord delivers a hard blow to the dragon’s eye and he roars him pain, blood pooling from the wound. In a display of violence, Vavaal leaps on top of the dragon’s head, clinging to the scales as his body lurches to throw her off. His body whips around, obscuring Serana’s view of what happens next. The only thing she sees is a glimpse of Vavaal raising her red blade over her head, the hilt pointing upward, before slamming it down into the dragon’s flesh. 

There is a final guttural roar from the beast before he slumps against the ground, head falling to the side. Serana snatches the discarded mask from the ground and breaks into a sprint toward Vavaal. 

**“Now, the reward,”** Dovah rumbles. The dragon’s body burns in a bright, white light. Scales fall away as the light forces its way between them and rush toward the dragonborn. Her body absorbs it hungrily, filling her with strength. **_I forget how addictive absorbing dragon souls are. Perhaps we should kill the vampire and find another._ **

_No!_ Vavaal’s voice find’s its way out of the darkness. _You’ve had your fun, dragon. This is my body_. Vavaal feels her own body protest against her, most likely Dovah’s resistance to her command. She slips off the dragon’s skull against her will, still facing the corpse. She yanks her blade from its skull and sheathes it.

“Vavaal,” Serana calls behind her. She stops a few paces from her. What is this energy I’m sensing? It burns even from here. 

Vavaal’s body shakes, as two forces try to overtake it. It takes every effort for Vavaal to bring a hand up to cover her mouth. Her gloved hand gripping her face with force. In the midst of her trying to push the opposing force within her away, she feels a tapping on her shoulder. 

Vavaal’s head whips around to meet Serana. Serana flinches when she is met with ice-blue eyes, pupils threatening to narrow into slits. Eyes of a dragon. Vavaal’s palm over her face tightens upon seeing Serana, as if struggling to keep it there. 

“I have this for you,” Serana holds up the metal and leather mask. It’s starting to become clearer how it is meant to shield others and not the dragonborn. Blue eyes shift to the mask, but her other hand refuses to take it. The air is tense, one shout at this distance and Serana is done for. The thought invaded both of the nords. Without showing fear, Serana steps behind Vavaal’s head. 

“Let me help you.”

She waits patiently, while Vavaal struggles to lower her own gloved hand. The aura emanating from the blond nord burns Serana, but she remains still. When she does, the vampire carefully positions the mask over Vavaal’s face. She gently clasps the straps back in place and spends her time smoothing stray hair away from her companion’s face. 

Vavaal cannot help but relax at the sensation of cold fingers lightly touching her forehead. It grounds her, helping her to calm the burning sea within her. _Sleep now, Dovah._ The burning sensation within her lessens, and dissipates as she breathes deeply. 

Serana can feel the burning aura recede into Vavaal, as the nord turns to face her. Her eyes are no longer blue and dangerous, but back to their usual gold and friendly tint. 

Vavaal gives Serana a tired smile.

“Thank you for taking care of my mask.” 

Her voice is once again soft and light, devoid of anything except pleasantry. 

Serana nods stiffly at her and looks around at the dragon’s corpse. Most of the scales have fallen away, revealing the bones underneath. No flesh, huh. 

“Sometimes the dragons swallow gold and some gems,” Vavaal inspects the dragon’s ribcage. She squeezes her arm through two ribs and grabs at a few septims and rubies in the snow. “I can sell these in Solitude.” She deposits her findings in her pouch, along with a few scales. Serana runs her hand over the bones, never guessing she would’ve gotten so close to a dragon after waking up from a centuries-long sleep. 

“We should find somewhere to rest,” Serana says to her companion. “I’ve been asleep for a long time, but I can see you’re wounded and the sun isn’t good for me anyway.” 

The two nords leave the dragon’s corpse behind them and walk until they find an empty wolf den. Old bones are pushed against the back of the den where a wooden chest sits. Upon inspecting the chest, Vavaal finds a small pouch of septims and a book, the latter she gives to Serana. 

Serana sits on the wooden chest and watches as her companion pulls a bedroll out of the small, enchanted pouch on her side. Vavaal places her blade next to the bedroll before collapsing on her back with a sigh. 

The silence between them is deafening. 

“I’m guessing you have some questions,” Vavaal says as a matter of fact. “You know, about what went on back there.” 

“Is it alright if I ask them?” 

Vavaal nods and smiles at her.

“As long as I can ask you some questions. We’ll be here a while, minus well pass the time.”

Her smile is not returned. Vavaal chuckles a little. “Always so serious,” she says lightly under her breath and closes her eyes. 

“So you’re the Dragonborn of legend,” Serana begins.

“That’s not much of a question, but yes.” 

“Is that why the dragon attacked us?” Serana asks. Vavaal hums.

“Yes, ever since Alduin came back from the dead, he has been resurrecting other dragons. I’m sure he’s come up in some sort of book, ‘the World Eater,’”

Serana nods. 

“From what I remember from my readings, only the Dragonborn can permanently kill a dragon. Is that true?” Vavaal nods. 

“From what I’ve experienced, yes.”

“So what are you doing here then? Chasing around vampires such as myself. Shouldn’t you be fighting dragons?” Serana smirks a little. There is no reaction from the dragonborn, but the pregnant pause before her response is the only hint that the vampire’s question stings her. 

“I… will get around to it eventually,” she responds slowly. “There’s just something I need to take care of first.”

Serana leans her elbows on her knees, and takes in a deep breath through her nose. The power from absorbing the dragon soul is still boiling in Vavaal’s blood, but there was something that happened during the fight that the mortal’s blood won’t tell her. 

“Does it… have something to do with what happened back there? Why you have to wear a mask?” 

There is a deep sigh from Vavaal and she turns her head away from Serana.

“You should get some sleep, it’s a long walk to Solitude.”

Serana huffed at her companions' sudden bout of silence. After being locked away for centuries, sleep was the last thing on her mind. She turns to the heavy book Vavaal handed her from the chest. The Third Era Timeline. 

_I suppose now would be a good time to catch up on what I missed._

_~~~~_

“Hey, Serana?” Vavaal pipes up. The two nords resumed their travel at dusk, Vavaal insisting that she is fine with travelling in the dark. She makes a funny jab about how she knows Serana would protect her, but is only met by unamused molten copper eyes.

“What is it?”

“How long has it been since you, ehm, fed.” Serana almost chuckles at the awkwardness of the question. She thinks for a moment, listening to the forest sounds. Even at home, the island offered little background noise other than the sea crashing against the rocks or her father barking orders at his court. The forest sounds so peaceful in comparison. 

“Are you worried I’ll go feral on you?” It’s impossible for vampires of her blood to go feral, but it was worth gauging Vavaal’s reaction. The other nord kicked a rock in her path in thought, idly watching it tumble into the snow banks. 

“Not really, I mean if there was anytime for you to kill me, it would’ve been back in that crypt.”

“That is true.” Serana idly wondered what Vavaal’s dragon blood tasted like. From the smell of it, it must be mouthwatering, better than any other mortal’s. “Technically, I haven’t fed in ages. But, when that thrall pressed his hand to the pedestal, his blood flowed into the monolith and to me. I’ll be alright for a while, but I’ll want to feed before we enter the city.” 

Vavaal turns to Serana and hums. “I’m sure we’ll stumble upon a group of bandits, we’re almost on the main road anyway.”

Vavaal’s prediction proves to be true. The main road, a cobblestone path stretches before them as they walk out of the bushes. They walk north, following the wooden signs pointing toward Solitude. 

Vavaal looks at her companion again. Moonlight gently caressing her dark hair, the intricate braids on the side of her head frames her face like a crown. Her countenance is neutral, if not a little serious. Always so serious. But she’s truly one of the most beautiful women she’s ever seen.

“Like what you see?” Serana turns and smirks at her. If Vavaal’s mask didn’t cover half her face, Serana swears she would’ve seen her blush. Serana is aware of her beauty. Her looks were greatly favored among the court. Her father always told her that it was because of her that they won over Molag Bal’s favor. As if that’s a good thing. 

“Ehm,” the fierce dragonborn, awkward as ever, stumbles after her words. “Uhm, what are you expecting when you go home?”

 **_Nice save_ **, Dovah’s deep voice rumbles around in her head. So it’s awake. 

Oh shut up. 

“I’m guessing my father and his court are still waiting for me. I can’t imagine my mother stayed with him after all this time, so I’m not expecting the warmest welcome.”

“Why go back?”

“A part of me feels like I need to go back. Just to see if my father really missed me. Although I’m sure he will be more happy about the Elder Scroll coming back than me.” There is a bitterness in her tone. 

“I’m sorry, that sounds tough. While I think it’s a little foolish to bring an Elder Scroll back to a court of vampires, I can understand wanting to see your father again.”

Serana cannot tell if Vavaal is insulting her or sympathising with her. She looks at the taller nord, whose honey eyes appear downtrodden. 

“Do you miss your family?” She let’s the comment about the Elder Scroll slide. Curiosity sparks within her instead when she realizes she knows so little about her savior. Ahead of them, Serana can spy what she thinks is the stone archway the Blue Palace sits atop. She read about the Blue Palace in books, about how it is rumored that Pelagius himself lurks within the halls. Sometimes she would climb to the top of her home, just to see if she could catch a glimpse of it on a clear day. 

“I miss them terribly,” Vavaal admits wistfully. “They live on Solstheim, it’s an island northeast of Skyrim.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it,” Serana muses. Was the creation of Solstheim yet another event she missed? 

“It’s probably because the Dunmer started inhabiting it in the beginning of the Fourth Era after the Red Mountain erupted in Morrowind. Some Dunmer escaped to Skyrim and remained here, others went all the way to Solstheim to escape the nords’ insufferable racism.” 

“You seem to know a lot about Dunmer,” Serana notes, disappointment still brewing in her gut about missing the coming and going of a new civilization. 

“Oh, well yeah. My parents are Dunmer,” Vavaal smiles. “I’m adopted.” 

If a blink could carry surprise, Serana’s sure does. Well that was unexpected. 

“I guess that explains your unusual name.” The stone archway grows in the distance. Dim light from the Eastern Trading Company reflects off the water's surface in the harbor ahead. 

“It’s a family name.”

“Is your mother’s name the same as yours then?”

Vavaal erupts in laughter, her eyes lifting at the edges.

“No, I mean it’s our last name. ‘Vavaal’ is not my first name.”

Another surprise. 

“You’re telling me that I’ve been calling you by your last name this whole time?!” 

Vavaal leans toward Serana.

“Yes,” she says cheekily. Serana rolls her eyes and pushes the infuriating nord away by her mask. The push is forceful enough to send Vavaal landing on her ass. 

“Shit! What's that for?!” Vavaal scrambles to her feet, unabashedly rubbing her backside. 

“For deceiving me,” Serana huffs. “And don’t lean so close to me, it makes me uncomfortable.” Visions of Molag Bal flash before her. His rough scales, sharp claws raking down her body, his hideous face breathing hotly in her ear. She shivers at the memory. 

Vavaal notices Serana’s reaction, a little confused. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Vavaal’s goodnature returns in full force. “No one but a select few know my first name. And all of them are back at home, anyways.” She thinks fondly of her parents. Dirvis, her father, was the one who found her in the stray barrel by the docks in Raven Rock. He was the softer one for sure, always cradling her as a baby and singing her songs of Azura and her realm of Oblivion, Moonshadow. Her mother, Rarsa, was the stern one, always demanding a house of order. But she always wanted children, and when her husband came home one day with a baby nord in his arms, her stone heart melted at the sight of her daughter. Vavaal aches to see them again. How many years has it been? 

“Why?”

“It’s a long story,” Vavaal says vaguely. “If we cross paths again one day, maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Will you tell me your name, at least?” Serana asks her companion. 

Vavaal smiles again.

“No.”

Serana scowls.

 _Smartass_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: Bo ahrk grah zu’u, Dovahkiin ! = Come and fight me, Dovahkiin  
> Bron = human  
> Ful hi bo do qah, Dovahkiin = So you have come out from hiding, Dovahkiin


	3. Haunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vavaal dreams of Dovah

It’s well past midnight when Vavaal and Serana walk past the gates and into Solitude. Serana notices how Vavaal pulls her hood tighter over her head as they pass the guards. They walk briskly into the Winking Skeever, Vavaal making a beeline for the innkeeper. 

_I’m fucking exhausted_. The mask strapped to Vavaal’s face feels like a heavy stone pulling her chin down. Battling the dragon earlier and hiking her ass all the way to Solitude really tired the warrior out. On top of that, keeping her emotions in check to quell that insistent voice in her head is driving her patience thin. All she wants to do is talk to the innkeeper, Corpulus Vinius, restock on sleeping elixirs, and go to sleep. 

“Corpulus, so good to see you,” Vavaal approaches the bar and leans over its surface. Serana follows suit, casting the innkeeper a pleasant nod. Corpulus, a short Imperial man, freezes upon seeing Vavaal. His hands stop polishing the tankard in his possession.  
  
“Vavaal,” he hisses. “What the fuck are you doing here, do you know what the guards will do to you if someone recognizes you.”

“Ah, I came to see you old friend,” she smiles and whispers. “You have my latest shipment for me, right?” Those damned elixirs are so hard to come by in Skyrim. Skooma, an even more illegal and deadly drug is easier to come by. _And cheaper too_. But these elixirs are the only thing that helps Vavaal stay asleep at night, so she is held in its grip. 

Corpulus peers leans over the bar, looking at the entrance and nearby patrons. Few are awake at this hour, those who are are well past drunk. He reaches under the counter at a small burlap sack and places it between him and Vavaal.

“This is the last time Vavaal, I can’t keep doing this, you’re gonna get the both of us locked up.” Vavaal places a gloved hand over Corpulus’s. She gives him another smile, prying the burlap sack from underneath his hands. She just wants to sleep, by the Nine. She doesn’t have the patience for his outburst.

“Corpulus, my dear friend. You say this all the time, but you always come through with my elixirs. Could my friend and I have two rooms for the night?” She changes the subject. A small headache begins to form behind her eyes. 

Corpulus looks incredulously at Vavaal for a moment before turning his attention to Serana. She softens her countenance, hoping to placate the worried innkeeper. She idly wonders what is in the burlap sack Vavaal holds. It’s a little strange how possessive she is over whatever elixirs are inside. _I don’t pin her as an addict, although I barely know anything about her._

“Are you serious, Vav? After I just told you that I cannot be your pack mule anymore?”

A hefty sack of coins lands heavily on the counter where the elixirs once were. Serana’s ember eyes snap to the gold. There has to be at least 100 gold coins in there. She sees the temptation in Corpulus’s eyes. 100 gold for two rooms is a steal, any sane person can see that. 

“Fine, but you and your friend need to leave before sunrise,” the Imperial relents. He shoves two keys at Vavaal and pockets the gold. Vavaal leads Serana to the second floor, locating the rooms with ease. The blond Nord tosses the key at Serana before bidding her goodnight. 

“I will see you first thing in the morning,” she closes the door before Serana could ask her about what happened downstairs. Serana stares at Vavaal’s door for a moment, digesting her peculiar behavior. The vampire tries to chalk it up to her companion’s exhaustion, she did just fight a resurrected dragon today. 

_I’ll ask her tomorrow._

~~~~

In the other room, Vavaal sits down on the narrow bed with a sigh. She looks down at the small burlap sack she got from Corpulus earlier, pulling at the string holding it closed. Inside the pouch is several dozen blue elixir bottles, about the length of her finger. She holds one up to eye-level, admiring the concoction of juiced Canis root, thistle, and blue mountain flower. It’s a vile tasting combination, and originally a mild paralysis potion. But years ago Vavaal got her hands on such a potion from an alchemist in Raven Rock after telling him about her sleepwalking, and he recommended the very potion. Now there isn’t a night that goes by where Vavaal cannot take this in fear of waking up with Dovah overwhelming her senses. 

She places the rest of the elixirs in her pouch and lays the lone bottle on the pillow provided by the inn. She focuses on taking off her armor, placing each piece on the floor with practice, stripping down to a long-sleeved tunic and trousers. Her mask is the last thing to come off, to which she places right next to her pillow.

She reaches for the elixir again, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. It’s a shame that she needs something to help her sleep at night, if you want to call paralysis sleep. She pops off the cork before guzzling the contents. 

The effects of the elixir take a few minutes to overtake Vavaal. In the interim, Vavaal thinks about her undead companion behind the wall separating their rooms. She is unlike other vampires, any other vampire would’ve tried to suck her dry already. She is aware how potent her blood is to vampires, hell they literally shout it at her whenever they try to attack her. But not this vampire, no, Serana is more than that. There is someone behind the stoic countenance.

And that Elder Scroll strapped to her back. Every step their little party takes toward Serana’s home, the greater sense of dread Vavaal feels surrounding the scroll. She really shouldn’t allow it to just walk into a den full of powerful vampires. There has to be someway she could snatch it from the vampire.

Vavaal’s eyelids grow heavy as the elixir’s ingredients take effect, her thoughts disrupted by a clouding sensation. She feels her muscles begin to stiffen underneath the furs as she slips into unconsciousness. 

_**Sleep now, Bron.** _

~~~~

Vavaal wades through ankle high water in the darkness. There is no source of light where she is and it is eerily quiet with the exception of water splashing around her ankles. The darkness feels familiar to her, enveloping her in its cold embrace.

“ **That was quite the display today, Bron** ,” Dovah’s voice reverberates throughout the darkness. Her deep rumble comes from all directions without a source. “ **You fought weakly, I’m disappointed**.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the controlled calm Vavaal usually holds is gone, replaced with hostility. In this little realm of Oblivion, there is no need to keep her emotions in check with the monster within right in front of her. A deep chuckle responds to Vavaal, shaking her chest with its force. There is a sound of metal shackles clinking, and out of the void, the head of a giant dragon comes snaking out. Its scales are the color of smoke and four horns protrude from its head, curved toward its snout. Large shackles fit snuggly around the ends of the bottom two horns, chains leading into the thick darkness. Heat dissipates from between Dovah’s scales, evaporating the water beneath her head into steam. 

“ **Oh you know exactly, what I am talking about** ,” Dovah pauses her head beside where Vavaal stands so one of her blue eyes faces the Nord. Vavaal stares back at her, Dovah’s dark pupil acting like a mirror. The dragon’s size dwarfs the human, enabling Vavaal to see her full reflection in the pupil slit. The rest of the dragon’s body is hidden within the void, like always. The Nord is always grateful for that, she never has any desire to see the full monster. “ **You would have died if it were not for my power, _Bron_**.”

“Stop calling me that, I have a fucking name,” Vavaal hisses at the dragon. 

The dragon chuckles again, her mouth pulling back and revealing a row of razor sharp teeth. 

“ **You know** ,” she begins, her eyes blinking lazily. “ **All dragons are named, but it is not given until it is earned. Calling a dragon by its name gives it power. You have yet to earn your name from me, Mirela Vavaal**.” 

Dovah sneers as she spits Vavaal’s name out through her teeth. 

“I could say the same for you, Dovah. You are cursed _without_ a name.”

Dovah’s eye narrows at this, an angry hiss escapes her throat. 

“ **My strength grows with every passing day, fool. With every dragon soul you absorb, I grow stronger. There will be a day where you will fail to come out of your little rage and that will be the day I control your pathetic body**.” Dovah’s large head lifts from the water and hovers over Vavaal. 

“ **I will devour your very mind as soon as these shackles release me. Your days are numbered, Bron**.” Dovah’s mouth opens, displaying all her teeth. Her mouth barrels down until her jaws snap shut around Vavaal with a crunch. 

~~~~

Vavaal is exhausted the next morning, partially because of Dovah and partially because of Serana actually listening to Corpulus’s orders and knocking on her door at sunrise. The warrior dresses herself on autopilot, strapping her heavy Dawnguard armor over her clothes. She has never been a morning person, the sleeping elixirs are rather potent. She stretches her arms in the air, still feeling a mild numbing sensation in her muscles. The only thing that eliminates the elixir’s effects is time, and Vavaal can only hope the morning goes off without a hitch. 

Serana waits patiently for Vavaal to dress, leaning against the wall opposite of the door. She didn’t sleep that night, preferring to stay up and read a small book, _Beggar_ , left by the room’s previous patron. It was a decent read, but her mind was occupied elsewhere. At some point during the night, Serana was even able to feed on one of the other patrons in the inn. The sleeping Breton’s blood was pleasant on her tongue, but his scent paled in comparison to Vavaal’s. But for the rest of the night, her nerves were on edge with the prospect of seeing her father again after centuries. Will he still remember her? Of course. Will he welcome her back with open arms? Unlikely. He’ll be more happy to have the Elder Scroll back in his hands. Having his daughter with him again will only be his way of insulting her mother, Valerica. 

The vampire can hear the Dragonborn’s slow-heart beat through the door. It’s peculiar, even a sleeping mortal’s heartbeat is stronger than what she heard throughout the night. If Serana didn’t know better, she would’ve thought Vavaal was dying. 

The door opens to reveal a fully-clad Vavaal. Her cowl already clipped to her mask and Bloodskal is strapped to her back. 

“You’re up early,” says Vavaal. Her voice is scratchy from lack of sleep. She peers down at Serana, avoiding eye-contact with the scroll. 

“We need to leave,” Serana turns on her heel and makes for the stairs. 

“Well aren’t you a stickler to rules,” Vavaal jests and follows the vampire. She focuses on the Elder Scroll in front of her. The stab of dread last night returns in full force. There is no way she should just let the scroll walk into the arms of Serana’s cult. Vavaal knew how powerful Elder Scrolls were, its ancient parchment full of knowledge that start wars and level countries. 

But why would vampires need it? 

The women walk past the gate, Vavaal turns her head down as they pass the guards. One of the guards in particular locks onto her form as she walks past, burning holes in the back of Vavaal’s head. Vavaal’s head is wanted in Solitude, and for a good price too. 

“We need to walk faster,” Vavaal picks up the pace. “If we can get to the docks, we might be able to get a boat out of here. Do you think you can point out your home on a map?”

Serana matches Vavaal’s gait and nods. Vavaal isn’t the only one who notices the guard’s interest in the Dragonborn. And the question is just begging to be asked. 

“What was Corpulus talking about last night? You’re acting a little strange,” Serana’s voice is low so that a passer-by doesn’t hear her. Vavaal’s heartbeat is stronger now, it drums rhythmically in her chest. Its little skip doesn’t go unnoticed by the vampire. 

“I’ll explain once we are out of earshot.”

There’s a lot of explaining to do on Vavaal’s part. And it’s a story that she prefers not to tell. But maybe if she tells Serana why, she could find out the purpose of that Elder Scroll. An eye for an eye kind of trade. 

Vavaal has never been so relieved to see a tiny skiff. Its captain is sitting on the dock, letting his legs hangover the water. Vavaal swiftly approaches him and offers a pleasant smile. 

“Good morning, are you offering rides today?”

The sailor takes in the armor-clad women, looking uneasily at the masked blond. 

“Depends on where you wanna go,” he answers. 

“We want to sail for a small island just west of here. It should be before the border to High Rock.” The man’s eyes widen comically at the mention of this island.

“Do you mean the one with the castle?” The women nod. “Are you two insane? It’s rumored to be haunted, there is no way I’m going there.” 

Vavaal sighed. This was not how she wanted her morning to start, arguing away with some sailor. She squats on her toes beside him so she is eye-level. Charisma has never been her strong-suit even with the mask off. Her mother always said she took after her father by being brash and awkward instead. So she resorts to bribery.

“How much gold would it take for you to drop us off at the shore?” She reaches for her pouch and places a gloved hand over it. The captain’s eyes filter to her pouch, thoughtful for a moment. He looks back at Vavaal with a spark in his eye.

“1000 septims, half for the amount of gold on your head and half for keeping me quiet about ever seeing you.”

Well, that is a little more than Vavaal could supply. The captain looks over her shoulder, she follows his gaze and spies a guard patrolling the docks. His back is to them, but one shout from the captain and it’s all over. 

_**Threaten his life**_ , Dovah whispers in Vavaal’s mind. _**Tell him that he will die like the others you killed in Raven Rock.**_

Vavaal rubs her temples with her forefingers, Dovah’s voice causing a mild pounding behind her eyes. The lack of sleep must have lessen Vavaal’s resolve to keep Dovah under wraps in her little void. She can envision the dragon so clearly giving a malicious grin. 

_No, that is something you would do. Not me_ , she calmly responds. A hand settles on the pauldron armoring her left shoulder. Vavaal looks up to see Serana extending her hand toward the captain. Her guarded countenance is relaxed, and for the first time Vavaal sees a friendly smile on her face. 

“I don’t believe we have met,” she says to the captain. “My name is Serana, and this is my friend Vavaal.” 

Serana catches the captain look down at her exposed chest and back up at her. His ears are slightly pink from his unabashed look. Men are usually easier to enthrall for her, being attracted to her looks makes them the more vulnerable. The captain reaches up to clasp her hand.

“I’m—“ his introduction is cut off by a numbing sensation that wracks his body from his hand shaking the vampire’s. His grip loosens and Serana lets it fall from her grip, back down to his side. Her smile turns into a smirk of satisfaction. He blinks a few times at the vampire, as if clearing his head. “I’m sorry, where was it you wanted to go?”

~~~~

Vavaal is impressed that Serana is able to enthrall the man so calmly. She always thought enthralling someone meant that a vampire had to bite them and pull their very will from their body, or something like that. She heard about it from one of the Dawnguard members, but apparently that should’ve been taken with a grain of salt. Once they board the small boat and the man starts rowing, Vavaal asks Serana and she explains that vampires like her can enthrall mortals with just a glance or a touch. 

“What kind of vampire are you? I didn’t know there where types,” Vavaal watches Serana as she enchants the oars the captain is using. The wooden oars glow green under her spell and the man’s strokes become stronger, propelling the boat faster. 

“There are a few kinds of vampires,” Serana twists in her seat so she faces Vavaal again. Her hood is pulled over her head to shield her skin from the rising sun. “There are those with a disease you are probably familiar with, Sanguinare Vampiris.”

Vavaal nods at the mention of the name. There has been a few times where she has contracted the disease from her time with the Dawnguard, but fortunately a small potion or a blessing from Florentius, a warrior-priest of Arkay, was enough to cure her. 

“Those vampires are considered impure and weak in comparison to my family’s blood,” Serana continues. “My family, the Volkihar Clan, are pure vampires. I am what you would call a Daughter of Coldharbour.”

Coldharbour, it sounds sinister. “How is this different from Sanguinare Vampiris?” Vavaal asks. 

“Our powers are granted from Molag Bad himself. He is considered the creator of vampires, and to become one you go through a ritual,” Serana explains. “My family, long ago, went through this ritual. It’s not exactly the typical family bonding activity.” 

“What was the ritual?” the Dragonborn asks curiously. Serana visibly stiffens, her voice dying in her throat. For once, Vavaal sees Serana at a loss for words and a little vulnerable. “You don’t have to tell me, if it’s too uncomfortable.” 

“Thank you, I’d rather not talk about it.” For the first time, Serana gives Vavaal brief smile. This is a lot of firsts, Vavaal thinks. And in one morning, too. She grins back. 

“Of course, that’s what _friends_ are for,” she recalls what Serana called her on the docks. The vampire rolls her eyes, struggling to contain a smile from spreading over her face. Serana takes in her companion before her. Her physical appearance is daunting, her height is imposing and the mysterious sword on her back is the color of blood. And, again, that mask. But the more she talks to the Dragonborn, the harder it is to associate her with a wanted criminal, someone “monstrous.” 

“Vavaal, what was Corpulous talking about last night?” Serana asks. She feels like she needs to know this big, fat question mark hanging over Vavaal’s head. Somethings are just not adding up.

Vavaal is not surprised by the vampires question, in fact, she has been expecting it to come up at some point this morning. Vavaal’s back straightens and she looks over to the boat at the sea passing by them. Her eyes cloud over as she sharply remembers what happened that bloody night in Raven Rock all those moons ago. It’s been five years now, her twenty-seventh year just passing months ago. 

“It’s not a story I like to tell,” Vavaal stares into the water’s murky depths. “But how about this, I tell you this long story and in return you tell me about why you have an Elder Scroll strapped to your back.” 

Serana mulls over the Dragonborn’s proposal, her tongue running over her fangs in thought. It’s a fair trade at face value, a story for a story. And Vavaal has put so much on the line for her already. 

Going against her superiors orders and not killing her.

Defending her from a dragon.

Helping her return home knowing she may walk into a vampire coven. 

“Alright, after everything you have done for me so far, I feel like I owe you an explanation,” Serana looks briefly over her shoulder at her thrall. “How about you go first? Don’t worry about saying anything, he won’t remember any of this ever happening once this is all over.”

Vavaal nods.

“Alright. Well, everything began to spiral downward during my twenty-second year…” 

~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, flashback. Vavaal will finally reveal to Serana what she is doing so far from Raven Rock and why everyone wants her head. 
> 
> I included a few quick sketches of Dovah. I'm a little sad I don't have my scanner working right now. But the graphite is what I first thought of her, the pen is a little more fleshed out. 
> 
> Hopefully, if there is time, I'll see if I can include little sketches in most of the chapters :)


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